


Unweaving the crapwritting, returning free will & organizing the chaos.

by Crystal_Hearted



Series: Unweaving the crapwritting [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Anti-hypocrisy., Anti-suicide., Characters of Season 7 & previous Seasons will appear during later chapters., Free Will will return, Guardian Plot fix-it., Multi, Not going to coddle Belle for the way she's been but will try to redeem her., References of abuse., The Author becomes character., The writers of the show are villains.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-25 23:52:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13845663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crystal_Hearted/pseuds/Crystal_Hearted
Summary: Once Upon a Time there were two writers that enjoyed to see others suffering, drank their reader’s tears and rejoiced in the desperation they caused. They even boasted about it.Once Upon a Time Storyline was disrupted. Chaos overruled, two universes were at war with each other, and reality was losing its meaning. People didn’t know that they had no more control over their fates than puppets on strings, and a person that doesn’t know what to fight for, won’t fight at all. And so the characters, heroes and villains alike, and in-between, no longer knew what to do with themselves. They were doing things but they didn’t know why, didn’t know what was missing in their lives, and it no longer mattered. Until one of them, the cleverest, and the most powerful, yet the most subdued and traumatized one, hollow as he had become, ended up miscasting a spell.It’s pretty amazing how one mistake can either destroy or fix fate, and you are about to see why.





	Unweaving the crapwritting, returning free will & organizing the chaos.

**Author's Note:**

> I am very disappointed with the direction the show has taken for years, but especially with the newest season when one doesn’t know what to believe anymore, and has to watch their favorite character suffer even worse than before, yet get ready for his “end”.
> 
> Despite what the writers say, Rumple dying wouldn’t be his happy ending, nor is being with Belle. After all this years he’s been with her, I can only see toxic influence. There’s no healing, no bonding, no learning from past mistakes. I didn’t like the way she way emotionally manipulating him from the very start, giving him false hopes and being unrealistic in her affections, but it only got worse from there. She became a harpy that could combine all his previous exes in a manner of wrongdoings, and there was lack of remorse. She always made everything about herself, wanted to rule his life, and even abused the dagger on his soul a number of times. She has time and time again sided with all his enemies, and caused him indescribable pain, yet only sees his shortcomings. Never hers. She claimed to love him, yet she constantly put terms and conditions. But True Love has to be unconditional, otherwise, it’s not... true.
> 
> She caused their only son to be abducted because a cursed dream told her so. She thought nothing of Rumple’s devastation for losing his second chance at fatherhood, nothing of the son’s fate. She did what she always did best; choose hypocrisy over everything. Even after the Final Battle -that almost cost them both their son- and during which she had so many chances to open her eyes and see what she was doing -which was judging Rumple and being generally unhelpful, even so far as creating problems- she still didn’t learn her lesson. Their “Happy Beginning” was a farce since she saw fit to invite Zelena of all people in little Gideon’s birthday. And their “seeing the world” mission became researching how to make Rumple mortal, after she had managed to imprint her disgust of his magical nature even farther in his already far too much tormented psyche. And then, as she had in the past chosen to curse herself instead of help him, she decided she should die and leave him alone; her job of destroying what was left of his strength and make him suicidal was done, after all. And so Rumple was left in despair, yet was determined to bring Belle’s plans of his demise into fruition, and was desperately looking for the alleged “Guardian”.
> 
> The question is... was all that really Belle’s choices, or was somebody using his pen on her to use her like a pawn? Was Isaac’s fake reality “Heroes & Villains” the only one? Was there another villainous writer that could do even more damage than Isaac? If there was, how far did they go? How would it affect the other characters that made many questionable, hypocritical and illogical choices time and time again?
> 
> Did Henry really mean to dump Violet and start messing with the Alternative Wish Universe? Did he mean to help the others destroy magic when it almost killed his grandfather’s wife and unborn son? Did Emma mean to make Hook a Dark One? Did Regina mean to give Zelena full custody of Robin? Did the Charmings mean to be so judgmental against Rumple, always quick to condemn him? Did they even mean to lock him in that horrid cell, years back in the Enchanted Forest? Did they mean to harm an unborn child so as to have their go at vanity? Did Belle mean to be as insuffering as she came out to be? Did Fiona mean to destroy the light? Or was it all due to a certain duo of people that have shown insensitivity to their characters and fans time and time again?
> 
> We will never know, but we can imagine.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumplestiltskin makes a surprise not-quite acquaintance and receives a warning.

 

Rumplestiltskin wasn’t sure who was really meant to be his “guardian”, or why he should entrust his own fate and soul to another person. His magic wasn’t working, yet it had kept him alive weeks ago when Tilly shot him in the chest with his own gun so that had to mean he still had it, somehow. It seemed blocked right now, but he needed it more than ever. Eloise Gardener, or rather “Mother” Gothel the Witch, was freed from the tower. And it was that damn pirate -that never thought ahead unless it was for his “revenge”- that had released her. She was free and scheming with Ivy Belfry -or should he say Drizella- and that couldn’t be good. He would need to defend himself and act soon.

He was becoming hasty and desperate in trying to follow and Belle’s mission, and see it to fruition, nevermind the niggling fear over the very thought of being controlled again by some other psycho. He had been crossing the streets with the dagger in plain view, even handing it to random people to see how they reacted to the thing. He wasn’t thinking straight, he knew it, but his life didn’t matter anymore. He just needed to complete this damn mission, find the person of the prophecy and reunite with his wife.

He found himself having to ally with Lady Tremaine, or Victoria Belfry as she was known here, because she said she knew what he was looking for and how to get it. And for some strange reason, he believed her; he didn’t like who she was but he believed her, against his better judgment. He helped her save Anastasia from Drizella and Gothel. But it came with a price he was too preoccupied to think about, too observed in his mission, and he regretted that now.

Lucy, Henry’s only daughter, fell into a terrible magic-induced coma and wouldn’t wake. She needed magic to be saved and, unfortunately, his was of no use. There was an inexplicable force suppressing him, making him powerless as much as it made him reckless. And he sensed it wasn’t the Curse, which Regina had been forced to help cast. No, it was something else and he couldn’t put his finger on what.

Only thing he knew was he had to help his great-granddaughter before her life was over. She was so young to die. And it would be his fault if he let it happen. So, he had to see if Anastasia really had magic, if she was the person he was searching for, and train her. But he had to give her the dagger, and that was risky. Yet, he did, and she had passed one test, so he figured he should ask her to create a healing spell for Lucy. One that could be used in this land. And she was trying her best, but she had only scribbled a few lines when Gothel made a very creepy appearance.

As if it hadn’t been bad enough that she was the one to remind him of the price of the magic used to wake Ana, making him the idiot of the whole situation, she was now there again and she was making his potential guardian lose control. He wasn't able to get through to his new apprentice, and she exploded, hitting him and Victoria to the ceiling, and Eloise to a wall she was standing near. Her sister manipulated her into going somewhere she had agreed with Eloise, and the latter managed to be there on time to trap them both. She transferred Ivy's dark magic to Anastasia, and it was over. He had lost his apprentice to darkness.

It didn’t matter if she succumbed or not, she was now officially under Eloise’s thumb. And even in the state of emptiness and despair he was in, he was still able to know Eloise could never be trusted; she was the worst witch he had ever encountered, and she had been around for too long to not be the most dangerous foe. And so he knew Ana couldn’t be trusted anymore, even though it wasn’t in her nature to be evil unlike her sister or the Witch that was playing them all. He knew why the witch had done all this; she wanted to “mother” him and control him herself, but he didn’t understand what she could possibly get from him. He just certain he had to escape her at all costs but didn't know _how_. He had no idea how to get out of this terrifying mess.

The despair he was feeling while thinking all this was suffocating, and he couldn’t breathe. He had been sitting in this very room, this secret safe basement of his, mourning what could have been, and even had stayed there to answer Roger’s new inquiries. The need to get away and breathe was overwhelming and he cleaned up the mess created by Ana’s magic explosion, put the daggers back to their respective places, all except the one linked to his power and his soul. He put that one in his jacket pocket, picked up the half-done scroll and headed to the stone of a giant statue under the bridge, the spot Tilly would use to sell her wares and information or sit to think.

After making sure he was alone, he pulled out the dagger and tried again to use some magic, to see if he could, after all, unlock his strangely suppressed magic and complete the spell on his own, maybe even cast it. It wouldn’t work. He sat back on the feet of the statue, clutching the scroll in one hand and the dagger in the other. He had reached another dead-end and didn’t know whatever else he could do. He was so useless, no matter how hard he tried not to. It was futile.

He thought about how he had lost everything, time and time again. He remembered being told it was his fault, and he believed it. Everyone that despised him had been right; he deserved what he got. Even Belle had agreed with that at some point and had spewed some very bad words about him. Years had passed and he still hurt from it. He couldn’t forget it, no matter what. He had stopped fighting, had stopped defending himself against her accusations or unwanted behavior, out of fear of losing everything again. He just wanted to be loved, and if being some certain way would get her to just let him be a part of her life -and, most importantly, a part of Gideon’s life- he would do it. And he did. For years. And he was happy he told himself. He had his family. She was dead now, though, and he missed her so much. He missed the days his family was whole, or as whole as could be anyways. He should have joined her in the afterlife, but couldn’t make it and his life was so empty without her. He had to complete this mission and reunite with her, so she could make good on her promise to be with him forever, in the afterlife, wherever that was. But he had no ways to do so, and to top it off, he had caused his great-granddaughter to go into an unbreakable coma. Belle must be doubly disappointed with him now.

He felt something the scroll getting warm and he looked that it once more. The wording had started to blur, and change. He couldn’t explain why, but something was happening. A bad reaction as a single tear had fallen from his face and directly onto the scroll. But his magic had stopped working, stopped manifesting itself, so how could his tear...

“You _are_ magic but you need belief for it to work, or did you forget that, Rumplestiltskin?” A smooth feminine voice resonated from somewhere close. A voice he had never heard before. Not here, not in Storybrooke, not in the Enchanted Forest, not in any of his travels, and certainly not where he had settled with Belle.

He turned around, clutching the scroll for dear life, and saw no one.

“Who is there?” he dared ask.

“No one you have ever met, that’s for sure.” the voice answered, mysteriously.

“How do you know my name?” he pressed.

“I know many things.” she retorted.  

“Where are you? Why can’t I see you? What do you want from me?” he found himself saying, almost in a panic. He shook himself. He tried to look a little closer but there was a silver-blue mist, or was it a wall of sorts - a mental wall, preventing him. He sighed. “How did you know what I was thinking just a few moments ago?”

“Technically, it’s because you are dreaming as we speak. Wake up, Rumple. Wake up and see the new scroll. Deep inside, you know you are not fully awake from the illusions set up to trap you, that’s why your utmost desperate tear could transform a useless half-spell, that no one could guarantee would do what it was made for, into something useful.”

“You are in my head!” he concluded.

“For the time being.” she admitted.

“Right... so, dare I ask what is written in the new scroll?” he whispered.

“You’ll have to take a leap of faith and see. It might be just the thing to help you change your fate.” she answered. He couldn’t see her but he supposed that, whoever she was, would be wearing a smirk on her face.

“My fate? What are you talking about? How do you know about it?” Okay, now he was sure he was in a panic. _Deep breaths, deep breaths... In and out... Focus..._

“Hmmm. I can’t tell you at the time being, I am not really here yet. You need to summon me, as soon as possible. Read the new context, before it’s too late.” she said.

“Why would I trust you? How do I know you’re not going to be one of those that have harmed me time and time again?”

“I am not malevolent. I am your friend, even if you don’t know me yet.”

He assumed she was trying to sound reassuring, but it didn’t work. It only made him all the more frustrated.

“You’re just a voice in my head, woman. And you’re driving my already upset brain into overdrive. Why should I ever try to summon you, malevolent or no? You’re just a stranger to me, and I have doubts you are even _real_.” he groused.   

“Funny, I have been having doubts of your existence for a very long time. You see, here you are only in fairytales. A fictional character. But, anyways, I am not here to upset you, I am here to help you.” came her cheeky reply.  

“But... but I am very much real. A real person. I...” he stopped his tirade short. “Why would _you_ want to help _me_? What would you gain from it?”

“Yes, I know that. And as for what I stand to gain... it’s rather simple... peace of mind.”

“I am afraid I don’t understand.”

“You will in the future. Now listen... we don’t have much time. You are in danger, and will be in even more if someone catches you daydreaming in the middle of the road, holding the cursed dagger you are tethered to, and a mysterious scroll. You need to wake up before they seal your fate.”

“They?”

“The writers.”

“I though Isaac was the Author, before he got fired and Henry took up the job?”

“I am not talking about Merlin’s Authors. These are hired by a TV program, and they do much more than write. They are screwing up everyone, especially you.”

“So, you are saying my actions aren’t really mine? Even without the dagger...”

“Yes, they can manipulate just about anything. And, unless they are stopped, the whole world will collapse on its seams. They tried to use your mother for that purpose once, forcing you to kill her. Now they are doing something similar... keeping everyone unhappy, desperate and hollow inside, while unaware of the cause, so they won’t care that reality is losing its meaning. Rumple, if they entrench what is so far written, there is no return, and soon you’ll find yourself in a coffin. Surely, you can’t want that.”

“You presume too much, stranger. I am in the path I chose to be.”

“No, that’s what they wrote you should say.”

“Perhaps, perhaps not. What I need is to fulfill my quest and reunite with Belle.”

“You... you want to die?”

“Not exactly, but it’s the only path available.”

“Why are you so set on this? You have lost most of yourself, can you not feel it?”

“And what was there to me anyways? I was always this useless, pathetic being. I...”

“Stop. I won’t have you say such things about yourself. You here never useless.”

“But it’s true...”

“Not really. Bullies can make a person believe they deserve to be bullied, but the truth is they’re victim-blaming. And, unfortunately, you have been exposed to too many people like that. They have imprinted a very deep self-loathing in you. And Belle did nothing but take advantage of it to establish _her_ rules.”

“No... She loved me... She...”

“Oh really? Then why has she used the dagger so many times on your soul? Why did she side with all your enemies because a self-inflicted cursed dream told her it would be a good idea? Why did she never apologize for hurting you? Why did she always put her herocrisy above love?”

“I... herocrisy? Is that a new word?” he said, smiling for the first time during the conversation.

“Why, yes. I am rather inventive with words when I put my mind to it.”

“I see. Uhm, what does it mean.”

“Hypocrisy idealized as heroism. Fake heroism.”

“Wow.”

“Okay, Rumple, you seriously need to wake up and make the wish in the scroll.”

“Fine.”

He received no answer, this time, and he realized she was gone. He came back from the vision-like haze that had overcome him, looked around and there was still nobody near the statue, but he knew shouldn’t waste his time waiting for somebody to come for him. He should be heading home before he got spotted by any unpleasant individual. But first, he needed to collect himself a bit. It wasn’t safe walking or driving on a highway without his wits fully about him. That was a fact.

He took a few deep breaths and turned to leave, but noticed he was still feeling a strange warmth from the scroll, though it wasn’t unpleasant. He took a look at it, realizing the whole new context appeared to be written in silver instead of black. It was definitely going to be difficult for him to read, as the letters weren’t all too visible and he wasn’t exactly ready to face it at the moment.

He carefully hid the dagger -he was still was still holding in his left hand- into his inside jacket pocket, rolled up the scroll and snapped it closed, and hurried to his car, scroll still clutched firmly in his hand. He didn’t let the scroll down all the while driving to his empty house. He parked in a space in his underground garage that was reserved for that purpose, got out, closed the entrance of the space with a firm click of the control panel in his keys, and hurried for his basement. He unlocked the door, headed straight for the secret crypt he had place there just in case, and tucked the dagger in, sealing it from view. No one would get it from there, as no one had ever been in his house before, much less know about his second basement’s existence. And it would be best if it remained that way.

He put the safety codes in place, and look back at his right hand, that was still holding onto that scroll. He couldn’t explain it, but he was afraid he might lose it. It gave him new hope, and he wanted to cling to it, nevermind his insecurities over the mystery woman that had been in his head just a while ago. He didn’t know if he could trust her, but he wanted to use that alternative path she had implied she could offer. Oh, how he wanted to.

Still, there was the matter of what was written now in the scroll scared him a bit. He didn’t know what he was about to face and he was naturally wary, so he decided he couldn’t do as she asked here. Because if something went wrong, he didn’t want her to know about his home basement just yet. That brought a new matter at the forefront of his mind; where should he utter the words of the summons?

He needed to leave again. He couldn’t, shouldn’t go far, of course, but he needed an open space that would be hidden enough from view. And he needed it to be somewhere no one would think to find him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Herocrisy = Hero - hypocrisy
> 
> The illusion that someone considers him/herself is a hero when he/she is plain hypocritical.

**Author's Note:**

> I will try to update by the end of each week, feel free to comment and tell me what you think.


End file.
